Body of Work (16 page)

“My body is smaller than yours, but my desires are just as big.”

They stared at each other for an eternity of minutes. Brian broke in the end, blowing out a long breath while shoving one hand through his hair. “Bottom line, I should have controlled myself with Leanne a hell of a lot better than I did. I hurt a woman, period.” He raised his head. Locked on to her eyes. “I couldn’t live with myself if I hurt you.”

This date had certainly careened into serious territory. While the topic of the conversation was horrible, his straightforward honesty, the way he owned his behavior and took responsibility, was incredible. After what he’d said about only getting married if the relationship could handle full disclosure, his confession hit even closer to the heart. He’d trusted her with his biggest mistake. That had to mean something.

“What happened after the arrest?”

“Lost my job, obviously. Broke up with Leanne, also obviously.”

“Did you dispute the charges, defend yourself, legally?”

“No.”

Okay, now she was mad in addition to being moved. Taking responsibility was one thing, absolving his ex-girlfriend of her involvement altogether was another story.

Cassie stomped across the room and planted herself in front of his massive frame. Stabbed him in the meaty pec with her index finger. “You had consensual sex with your girlfriend and it may have gotten out of hand. It was an accident, not—not—”

“Assault? Yeah, legally, it is. As it should be.”

Looking in his eyes was too much. He’d been accused of being a monster and clearly, he thought the label fit. She pressed her forehead to his chest, slid her arms around his waist. Squeezed her eyes shut when he didn’t return her embrace.

“You won’t hurt me. I know it.”

Above her, he sighed. He kissed the top of her head and blanketed her with his thick, warm arms. “If I do, I’m going to have my balls cut off.”

“I don’t think that’s an option in our penal system.” She blinked up at him. “Not that I’d ever do what Leanne did. I wouldn’t. Anything that happens between us stays between us.”

“If I ever give you more than a tanned bottom or a hickey, you
will
report me. As for the balls, I’m sure I can find any number of guys willing to castrate me. Hell, there’d probably be a lineup of people—male and female—willing to pay for that opportunity.”

Did he really think that? There was so much she didn’t know about him, his past. In time, hopefully she’d know it all.

“You’re not so tough, you know. I’m pretty sure I could take you if I tried.”

He whooped and lifted her off the ground. Spun and plunked her on her sore butt, next to the cutting board. He stepped between her legs, cupped the back of her neck and seared her lips with a kiss that left her breathless. “You already did. I’m completely at your mercy and I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.”

Unsurprisingly, no leftovers remained from their dinner. A man Brian’s size put away a lot of food, and with the chicken lost in the demise of the barbecue, and nothing to replace it in her house, it hadn’t been the most filling meal ever served.

The additions Brian had made to her tossed salad—cheese cubes, chopped nuts, the last of her on-hand veggies—elevated it from side dish to entrée, even though it left her fridge next to bare. She could get used to having a resourceful man in the kitchen. And when he’d pulled the toasted rounds topped with goat cheese, salmon and lemon zest from the oven…she’d almost asked him to pack a bag and move in.

She tossed the cloth napkin on her empty plate, crossed her ankles atop Brian’s knee and leaned back as comfortably as the rigid lawn chair permitted. To the west, peach and amber streaked the sky as the sun dipped below the horizon. Twilight’s glow wrapped around Brian, bouncing off his hair and creating a warm aura that made it even harder not to stare at the handsome hunk of male who just might be her boyfriend.

He turned his amazing smile on her—one that’d melt her panties, if she had any on—then leaned forward and tugged her chair closer, directly across from his. The action tented her legs. Down slid her robe, to her hips. The July evening was warm and windless, yet she shivered. Goose bumps rose on her arms, matched ten times over by her nipples poking against the satin. Mischief sparkled in the eyes appraising her. Gently, he stroked her calves, the sensitive spot at the back of her knee. Higher, up the inside of her thigh, until his hand disappeared under the edge of her robe.

“Mmm, dessert,” she said as his fingers parted her flesh and found her clit.

“Exactly what I was thinking.” His chair’s legs scraped the patio. On his knees in front of her, he repositioned her—thighs spread, one foot resting on each of his wide shoulders. His face disappeared between her legs, his tongue replacing the teasing touch of fingers. No teasing now. He suckled her clit, pushing her closer to the edge with each flick and swipe of his tongue.

“Please…” She arched, desperate to take his thrusting fingers deeper. He added another and she groaned at the fullness. Still wasn’t enough. “Touch me everywhere.”

A growl rumbled against her clit. She whimpered in complaint when he withdrew his ministrations. He looked up at her, eyes dark and hungry, while moistening his smallest finger.

“Say it again.”

“Touch me everywhere.”

“You can do better than that. Tell me what you want.”

Trapped by his eyes, his massive body and her wanton needs, she whispered, “I want your fingers inside me—fucking my pussy and my ass while you make me come.”

“With pleasure.” His lips touched down first, then tongue, then fingers sliding into her pussy. Then a single digit pressed against her ass, circling its way inside oh so slowly.

“Oh god, more…” And more she got. Sensations crashed together as his pinky pushed in all the way. So good, the teasing taste of fullness. Later, she’d make him give her more than this. He’d hold her hips and ease his cock inside. She’d take every thick inch of it, beg him to fuck her ass deep and hard.

The sweet buzz of climax tugged at her. She rolled her hips against his tongue to get more pressure. The top of his head shook and bobbed as he took her to the edge only to torture her by easing off, over and over.

“Stop teasing…make me come.” She threaded her fingers through his soft, short hair and forced his face tighter to her needy clit.

Like a starving man he licked, sucked and bit her. God yes—that was it. She tipped over, bucked and clawed and pushed her pussy against his face.

“No more.” She attempted—unsuccessfully—to wiggle free of his clutches. “Too sensitive.” His laugh vibrated through her core, and just like that, her sated feeling melted into desire. “Take me in the house…so you can
take me
in the house.”

“On it.” He scooped her out of the chair and into his arms. Skirted the pile of dead barbecue parts and took the stairs of her back stoop two at a time.

They hadn’t turned on any lights before heading outside to eat, and only a few weak rays of sunshine filtered through the west-facing windows as he carried her through the house. The dim lighting didn’t keep her from admiring his profile. Straight nose, high cheekbones, strong, square jaw. So many words described him—handsome, masculine, beautiful. And another one—photogenic. The crappy pictures she’d snuck with her cellphone had proven that.

“Remember by the tree, when I said you’d owe me and you agreed?”

“For the picture I
didn’t
take, yeah.”

“That’s on you. Not my fault you didn’t take advantage of your end of the deal.”

“Oh, I took advantage.” He turned into her bedroom, hitting the light switch as he did. The grin on his face—pure wolfish. “If you’ve forgotten, I’d be more than willing to refresh your memory.”

“Sorry, no trees in my bedroom. And my belt’s in the bathroom.”

“Don’t need any props.” He deposited her on the bed. Crawled over top of her, linked their hands and stretched her arms above her head. His lips grazed her forehead, eyelids, the bridge of her nose, then found their way to her ear. “Have everything I need right here.”

“You have to stop doing that.”

“Kissing your neck?” he asked as his mouth traveled lower, to the sensitive spot near her collarbone.

“God no, never stop that.”

“Then what?”

“Saying romantic things to me.”

“You have something against romance?”

“Yes, actually, I do.” She tilted her head, in part to grant him better access, mostly to avoid looking into his eyes during her admission. “Romance is dangerous. And when you talk to me that way, I want more days like this. Making dinner together and endless sex and other dangerously romantic stuff. I am a woman, you know.”

His head lifted enough for her to see the twinkle in his eyes. “Oh, I did notice—though I’m always up for a refresher of that fact.”

“
Brian.
” God, he was bad. And so very good. The man should come with a warning label—guaranteed to spike hormone levels while causing dreams of white dresses and fancy, tiered cakes. “Brian.”

“Cutie,” he said, pseudo-mimicking her serious tone.

“Stop with the sweet talk, or I won’t be able to help myself, I’ll fall even more.”

“Good, because I’m already there.”

She angled for a better view. Smiling—he was smiling at her, the sweetest, most romantic smile. The kind she could totally picture at the top of a tuxedo. Oh crap. “You’re still doing it.”

“I’ve warned you about my lack of control.”

How did he do that—take her from horny to sappy to giggling, all in the course of minutes? Talk about lack of control—she’s the one who had it, big time. For now she was going with it. If he broke her heart, she’d pick up the pieces.

“Back to our deal, the part where you owe me.”

“Right.” He released her hands to prop his weight on his forearms. He fiddled with the barrettes restraining her hair, worked them free and tossed them aside so he could play with her short, unruly waves. “What did you have in mind?”

“I’d like to take your picture.” Merely thinking about getting Brian in front of her Canon had her heart racing. “Not with my cell phone, I mean really take your picture, in my studio. Tasteful shots, don’t worry.”

His eyebrows rose at her closing statement. “No naked pictures?”

Of course he’d ask that after what he’d seen of Paolo and Beth’s photo shoot. “That’s not what I had in mind…though I wouldn’t say no if you wanted to drop your kilt.”

“My
kilt
?” The bed shook with his whooping laughter. When he finally caught his breath, his eyes shone with the almost-tears that accompany absolute amusement. “Okay, cutie. You tell me when to be here with my skirt and I’ll try not to break your camera.”

As if that’d happen. With his looks and physique—not to mention his kilt—these would be amazing pictures. She could already see them in her mind. So good, she could probably sell them as stock photos, maybe even as exclusives, if he was interested in making a bit of extra money.

“I look forward to seeing your studio. Watching you work.”

“What?” She couldn’t have heard correctly.

Oh god, no.

His words from their argument in the staffroom at Blur replayed in her head.
You had company—and an open door. Might want to lock up next time, or maybe you don’t care who hears or sees.

She’d assumed he’d meant the Mancusos’ erotic photo shoot. What if he hadn’t?

“Hey, you’re pale as a ghost. Shit, I’m probably squashing you.” The safety and heat of his body vanished as he rolled to his side, leaving her far more vulnerable than she’d been any of the times he’d fucked her. “You okay?”

She nodded a lie she’d never pull off if she used words. “Just confused. I thought you’d already seen my studio. You didn’t go down to the basement when you were here—before?”

“Like when you were hiding from me the first night? No. You gave yourself up before I took the second stair.”

“I guess I did, didn’t I?” She smiled, but it had to be weak.

Concern flickered in his eyes. He curled one strong arm over her waist and tugged her as close as possible to nuzzle her hair and whispered in her ear, “I have an idea that’ll put the color back in your pretty face.”

Sex, yes. That’s what this had to be about. Not falling in love, not frivolous dreams of wedding dresses and happily ever after. Those had been dangerous enough when she thought Brian knew about her specialty photography. How stupid she’d been, assuming he’d discovered her secret and had no questions about it. For a photographer, she was pretty damn blind.

“Come on, I’m going to run you a bath. You can relax. I’ll clean up from supper.”

Perfect domestic bliss, exactly what she couldn’t afford. “Forget the dishes. How about a shower instead—then you can join me. You know, wash my back, hold me while I bend over to pick up the soap…”

“You drop the soap a lot?”

“I will if you’re standing behind me.”

Whatever had her worried a few minutes earlier seemed to have disappeared. Gentleman be damned. The prospect of slippery shower sex with Cassie had blood roaring through his veins, all of it headed to one location.